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Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

"I'm glad you decided to come into the city with me. I know it may seem crowded. But I imagine it was pretty lonely out in the woods."

He sits back drinking his ale.

Occasionally. Judy visits me often. Occassionally with Mint. I would babysit their little girl, Xerina, so they could spend some quality time together. Hui shrugs. They used to have an adopted son, Rocky. But he... he disappeared. She looks sad about this. He was just starting to learn to control his anger, too. He was a Gray Render.

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

{In a Corner}

Hui nods. They are. Judy used to be an Assassin, until she was sent to kill GLoG's president, long ago. She never talked much about why, but she gave herself up to them, and risked her life to become a fighter for the Good.

Hui takes a drink. Her wife Mint fell through a portal of some kind. They had to fight Mint's father for her freedom, or something.

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

Meanwhile, the door opens, and in walks BR. It's been awhile since the muscular, well-toned, white-haired young man has been out and about, and he looks around curiously before taking a seat at the bar.

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

There comes a hiss. Then a faint crackling. Then the barest hint of the odor of ozone.

The toaster splits open, revealing a mess of incredibly complicated mechanisms inside, and begins to rearrange itself into a new shape! In a matter of only a few moments what was once an appliance smaller than a loaf of bread is now a gynoid of polished steel and brass.

She regards the ghostly fellow curiously as the delicately crafted components of her face pull into the faintest hint of a smile. "You don't have to take my word for it," the machine replies in a synthesized voice with a rather odd reverb to it. "If you can't see something you don't have to believe it is true."

...

What's that supposed to mean?

There comes a distinct pop from inside the machine. She glances down curiously, pulls back a compartment on her chest, and extracts another piece of toast.

The gynoid regards the blackened slice of bread curiously as though she isn't sure how it go there.

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

There comes a slight whirring noise as the machine blinks at the slice of toast in her hands.

She looks up at BR.

Then back down at the toast.

Then closes the panel in her chest and carefully places the piece of toast on the counter. Her motions with it are both ginger and caring, as if she is afraid that she might harm the bit of food. And as if the bit of food were an object of truly immeasurable worth.

She fixes her eyes on BR.

Then tilts her head to the side ever so slightly and says, "The art of what."

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

"Art is what you make of it. That," for instance, John says, pointing at the toast. "Or that." He motions to a poker game going on in the corner, a Mallkop Ork tossing in his chips with disgust as a Creeper hisses delightedly. "And this." He accepts the Dragon's Liver Buster, raising it as an example.

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

One can almost hear the gears grinding in her head. She's trying to figure out how to respond to that. Has she talked about subjects like this before? Telsa really isn't sure. It is a lot easier when people just decide to sing some songs with her instead.

"I am the art of the possible?" she finally concludes after a good minute and a half of staring blankly at BR.

"Does that mean you are as well?"

She moves the slice of toast on the bar exactly Pi centimeters to the right.
"Do you like music? I am fond of music. It is my favorite kind of art. Is that possible as well?"

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

At a place like Trog's, people appearing in a bright flash of light accompanied by some manner of distinctive sound is practically a common occurrence. In addition to being the favored method of transit among certain members of the regular clientele, such a spectacle is practically a tradition among newcomers.

This particular flash and noise is rather unimpressive, as if reality wanted to provide its usual announcement but couldn't muster up the effort. The flash isn't bright enough, and in an unpleasant shade of green, while the noise is barely noticeable above the usual tavern chatter. At the center of this unspectacular spectacle is a robed, childlike figure clutching a scroll who seems likely to fall down at any moment. "Not... not what was supposed to happen." he mutters.

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

The machine kicks her legs a bit, pondering that reply.

Hmm...

It raises so many interesting questions!

Though her addled mind takes a rather odd route to find them. It is clear enough that someone was trying to mimic human thought and speech with this golem, but just as clear is the fact that they didn't do the best job imaginable.

"What kind of subject are we?" she asks curiously.

And then someone else appears in a flash of light!

Telsa peers at him, blinks, and then says, "I can't allow you do that Dave."

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

"What?" the childlike figure asks flatly "My name isn't- oh right, I remember. That's just one of those things robots say. No clue why." He seems to ponder this for a moment, then suddenly acts startled. "Robots? that's not right either. Hold on"he then snaps his fingers, sending a blue spark into the air. "Thaumatic signature is... everything? Lousy spell must have dumped me at a multiversal nexus."

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

[Just Outside]

Annabelle had not been very active of late. In fact, one could say she had been very distinctly inactive. Between eating small rodents at GLoG and wandering the streets of Inside doing the very same, the ghoul had not truly done all that much since she had crawled out of her grave what felt aeons ago. Her grave which, as she remembered a few moments ago while dining on a rat, had been buried beneath the floorboards of a rather well known establishment.

"Trog's... Tavern." she spoke aloud, chewing a finger nervously. The ghoul had been given the ability to understand all writing, it was true; but that hardly meant she was sure of herself about it. Half the time she wondered if people were just nodding along because they didn't want to embarrass her.

Even so, those were hardly the chipper thoughts that a girl like her was supposed to have running through her head on such a fine... evening? Morning? Afternoon? It always seemed impossible to tell, for some odd reason. Almost as if each person's perception of night and day was entirely different here. No matter! She did not need to know the time of day to enter a fine establishment such as Trog's Tavern! She was a ghoul, and by golly she was going to get a drink, and be happy about it!

[Through the doorway, with a smile!]

"Hi Annabelle! I'm Trog's Tavern!" Wait, no! That was already wrong! Blasted undead vocal chords, betraying her at a time like this! "I mean, I'm Annabelle! Where are all of those things that people drink here?" The ghoul's cheerful smile was somewhat hampered by the stitches that ran a course across it from ear to ear, but surely people in the Nexus were a charming bunch who would be able to look past such silly little things!

Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

A tiefling girl, in her twenties, steps nervously through the door. She's wearing a skirt and a simple blue shirt.

She looks around, not sure where her blind date is.

Spoiler

Show

This is the thief who likes to hoard,
That loves the bard with the puppet Lord
That admires the fighter with the green-hilted sword,
That employs the Wizard, whose bird is ignored,
That has the gender unexplored
That intrigues the Halfling, usually bored,
That slew a mountain of the goblin horde,
That follows the cleric,
That serves the lich,
That seeks the gate,
That guards the snarl,
That lives in the prison the gods built.